They Could Still Dream of the Future
by eremiticAntiquarian
Summary: Prequel to Hope Should Never Be Lost [Part 1 of 3 in the Hope Series]. Harry and Draco need to feel alive again. They find solace in their mutual hatred. HPDM    DH Spoilers.


It is difficult to say what is impossible, for the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of tomorrow. - **Robert H. Goddard**

Never had two such students in all the years of Hogwarts graced the corridors of the castle. They could barely breathe in the other's presence before setting the other off in fiery rage. One had a temper that could rival the greatest of Mother Nature's fury and eyes to match her grace and beauty. The other icy cold, sarcastic, and thought himself to be superior in every way and a snobbish disposition to top off his elegance.

For six years, they walked the same halls, shared the same Quidditch pitch, and ate the same food at meal times. Yet, they were the two most talked about rivals ever to grace Hogwarts. They certainly had a history, these two boys. History is indeed little more than the register of the crimes, follies and misfortunes of mankind. Harry and Draco played that truth up so well.

So when the Battle of Hogwarts came around, they did what they did best. Insulted each other. Harry needed to clear his mind, and fighting with Malfoy gave him a great sense of familiarity among the walls of Hogwarts. Malfoy had just lost the closest thing he had to a friend, save Goyle. Having Potter around just called for a release of his anger upon the scarred git.

And so, between all the running around, they had found each other.

Malfoy knew that the name-calling was childish. However, it was comforting to him to be able to still insult Potter and his friends and family. Draco knew the scent of death and it permeated the air. He knew his chances of survival were slim to none. He knew that he should be making some sort of amends. But, Draco, still childish and insecure found himself making comments of poor taste about Harry's dead mother.

Potter knew that his temper was dangerous. He knew that he'd be able to kill after his emotions took over, much like the Cruciatus he had recently performed. He knew that he had purposefully headed to the Slytherin dormitory while engulfed by his rage. He also knew that he was going to die. So, if he killed the Malfoy heir, son of Death Eaters, who would really put that against him after he sacrificed himself for the war? Harry couldn't feel anything but pain and loathing anymore. Harry did what he did best when feeling these emotions. He sought out Draco Malfoy and got ready to hand out a good beating or receive one.

And there they met. They stood staring at each other outside of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. A barely audible whisper let Harry enter the snake pit with Draco Malfoy. They knew full well that blood would splatter the dungeons, and with only Goyle as the only Slytherin left in the castle, it would be well concealed there.

"I hate you, Malfoy."

"What a bloody coincidence, I hate you, too, Potter. Perhaps we're soul mates and should bind ourselves together. We have so much in common, you know."

"Shut your dirty gob, Ferret," Harry swore with a nasty left hook.

And then the fighting began. Bloodied, bruised, kicked, punched, slapped, bitten, viciously kissed. And soon after, the fighting ended. Yet, the famous rivals of Hogwarts still found themselves battling for dominance and clawing at the other. Their anger and hatred and fear washed away with another sort of passion. The sort that could make them feel alive, if even for a few minutes.

Harry bit at Draco's bottom lip as he lifted his head to meet the blond above him. Both moaned with something so intense that it overrode the sensory nerves that differentiated pain from pleasure. Soon enough, Draco was dragging nail across Harry's chest as he lay on the cold stone floor. He grasped Harry's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises visible for weeks afterwards. Screams and gasps and pants filled the stagnant air of the dungeon surrounding them. Sometimes they were on the floor, other times, on a luxurious sofa, and even more commonly against the gray and slimy stone walls. Never had either known such incredible sensations. Never could they try to describe what they felt in those few and savored moments of time.

Soon enough, the few minutes were over.

Neither spoke as they left the Slytherin common room.

And the battle progressed. And Harry died. And Draco found his parents and fought along side of them against the Death Eaters. The same Death Eaters that had for so long occupied their once warm home and turned it into a place of horror and loathing. And Draco felt freedom as they dropped dead at the Malfoy Family's well pedicured and adorned feet. And Harry lived. And the battle was won. And Voldemort was dead. And Aunt Bella was dead. And so many that he had attended classes with were dead. But Harry was alive. Harry was alive. He was not as dead as the crowd had whispered mere… was it seconds? earlier. And Draco was alive. He held on to his mother and father tightly in the Great Hall, fearing that if he let them go, they would disappear and he'd have to come back to reality.

Draco watched a very _alive _Harry sitting next to Loony Lovegood and nearly smiled before catching himself in the act.

Harry noticed the Malfoys huddled together, looking as if they weren't sure if they belonged. Harry nearly attempted to catch Draco's eye before catching himself in the act.

Yet, Harry still didn't believe himself to be alive. Yet, Draco still didn't believe himself to be alive. And they met once more, this time far away from the Slytherin territory where Malfoy's parents were sleeping. The Astronomy Tower is where they met this time. And they fucked for what seemed like hours. And afterwards, Harry felt sick to his stomach knowing that this is where the young man who currently was invading him led the Death Eaters to kill Dumbledore. And Draco knew that this was they place where he first began to believe that he had another option in the coming war, where Dumbledore died promising him salvation.

Again, neither of them spoke as they left the tower. But each of them felt alive again.

It wasn't until the following morning that they realized they had fallen asleep in pants that were not their own. They were content to keep them for now. Each secretly hoping the other would come to claim them and they could experience the exhilarating adrenaline coursing through their bodies. For now, they'd keep the pants safe and remember that they could still dream of the future.


End file.
